


something wicked (this way comes)

by atroxareia



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Crime AU, Happy Ending, M/M, Misleading Tags, Mutual Pining, Oikage Week, an entry so delayed it surely does not count anymore, hitman!kageyama, honestly this is sappy and romantic than anything else, oikawa is an intermediator/associate of some sorts, sadomasochistic undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 05:17:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14037009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atroxareia/pseuds/atroxareia
Summary: There was anticipation and instincts flared to notify he was nearing a feral animal. But the feeling in his stomach was not fear.





	something wicked (this way comes)

**Author's Note:**

> “If people like you, they’ll listen to you, but if they trust you, they’ll do business with you.” –Ziglar 
> 
> Normally this was a not too shippy drabble under 1000 words for the 4th day of last oikageweek ALSO without the sadomasochistic pining extravaganza but i have lost control of my life

He took a wrong turn with his tired mind and now he had no idea where he was. Oikawa swore under his breath as he tried to find a familiar sign somewhere, grimacing at the fact that he was lost in the city he grew up in. As he walked, everything seemed to get less and less familiar, until a sight stopped him dead in his tracks.

Between the brick walls of a narrow back-alley street, there was someone standing unmoving, half turned to the wall.

“Hey.”

He got no answer.

“Are you okay?

The person in question showed no signs of having heard him. Oikawa walked closer, a familiar shiver running up and down his spine, as if he was approaching something dangerous; a feral animal waiting for his prey in deceptive calm. His instincts were dependable after years of living in danger – he could smell it from miles away and now, every single voice in that chorus in his mind was telling him to _turn and leave,_ quickly, without looking back, _run._

He shoved the advice aside.

“Hey,” he said instead, once again, this time louder.

He was close now, despite the instinct to flight, there was something pulling him there; maybe an addiction to adrenaline or a simple recklessness he never quite grew out of, or something else equally urgent but he was too riled up to question it. Reflection with eventual regret and self-deprecation were reserved for night time, when he was alone in his house. Outside, he indulged himself.

The stranger was possibly in some trance or a state of shock or simply waiting for him to get close enough, Oikawa rationalized. He stopped, timid in his steps; knowing better than to do otherwise and end up getting slashed by quick reflexes of a stranger, with a sudden flash of a hidden blade. Even though the person in question seemed to be younger than him and he was no easy target himself, one could never know.

The black haired boy turned to face him with wide and clear blue eyes that seared through him, his face completely devoid of emotion.

Apathetic. Cold. Eerie.

_Magnetizing._

Oikawa immediately felt taken aback. As rare an occasion as it was, it frustrated him all the same to meet with that sort of person who showed no reaction for him to tailor his own demeanor in response to, it made him exceedingly uncomfortable to be unable to fish out a weakness. His talent was to read, to influence, to charm, and people like him took his power away, just by sheer existence.

They unsettled him, made him want to cower – to run.

And yet.

 

-

 

 _It’s a talent to make people like you,_ Ran-san, who was like a big sister to him had said, once. _You have the right face and right act for it. Most people have to try so much harder. Know your luck._

Oikawa would not call himself lucky by any stretch of the word, but he appreciated the point of view. He had accepted the misfortune he seemed to attract long time ago and his strong suits as well and decided to make most of it. At least his physique wasn’t lacking – he could defend himself quite well and that was enough. He was a good shot too, not to mention he had a way with words thus it rarely came to that. However some people were just naturally intimidating and that was not him. But the boy he had just met was.

Even though at that time and at first glance Oikawa seemed more capable with the advantage age brought, he had been wary. He got the feeling that he would fail, if they were to fight. From his agility and raw power, Oikawa would later see that that was no empty worry, however at that time, it had less to do with clear-cut rationale and more to do with how the boy carried himself. It had more to do with Oikawa’s instincts warning him.

If he were a lesser man, he would fear him –

_Now._

The feeling aroused in him whenever he thought of Kageyama _definitely_ was not fear.

 

-

 

He wasn’t sure what devil pushed him into this but he concluded he clearly must have a death wish when he unlocked his front door to let in the younger boy who had blood all over his clothes.

“You can wash up,” he said, throwing him a towel after leading him to the bathroom. “Leave those,” he pointed at his ruined clothes, “on the corner, I don’t want them mixed with mine.”

The boy uncaringly started to get undressed before Oikawa even closed the door, leaving the older one stunned by his audacity. Oikawa left him there and went to prepare something to eat, cursing under his breath, finding himself at a loss as to why he was doing this. He should have known better than to show sympathy to strangers. Especially to the ones who could kill him.

After he gave him something to eat, he pointed at the couch and said he was free to stay the night but he had to leave in the morning. Oikawa half expected him to suspect his motives for bringing him here – rightfully so, he had to admit, even he found his own behaviour quite peculiar - and attempt to kill him while he was sleeping, as he was more or less a witness of his crime. But maybe the younger boy saw the gun or maybe he just was too naive to even think of suspecting him, or simply had good enough sense to get that Oikawa was the last person to snitch someone out. He was wide awake when he saw him leave silently at dawn from his bedroom window, wearing the clothes Oikawa gave him and he finally dozed off in relief.

 

-

 

He felt, more than saw, the doorknob being turned and someone entering the bedroom. Oikawa was half awake, lying on his stomach, knowing he should have been alarmed but unable to move an inch, feeling completely lethargic. The younger boy stared at him from where he stood, as cold as the first time they locked gaze and walked closer. Strangely, there was no hesitation in his movements as he threw his covers away and pulled Oikawa’s pants down. His weight was immediately on him, coarse fabric of his jeans brushing against Oikawa’s bare thighs; hardness in his pants and the cold metal of his zipper against his flesh making him shiver. His hands locked him down, next to Oikawa’s shoulders, one capturing his wrist, slowly leaning in until his lips almost touched his ear, speaking with a calm tone devoid of emotion that made Oikawa weep in need.

_“Was this why?”_

Oikawa woke up with his heart racing like it was going to beat out of his chest, only to see it was still dawn and the clock showed that it was barely fifteen minutes after he saw him left and no, he most definitely was not back in the house, let alone his bedroom, but now Oikawa seemed to have another problem he did not even want to acknowledge.

Oikawa could recognize danger from a mile away, yes.

Except he liked how it felt.

 

-

 

_“Again?”_

His question got no answer and no reaction whatsoever. Second time he saw him at his door, his clothes were once again stained with blood that wasn’t his. Oikawa felt relief washing over him after the initial shock, slightly concerned that he cared about a stranger’s well being.

Kageyama didn’t talk. He left at dawn again, without the turning of the knob which Oikawa waited for, half excited, half mortified at himself for the obvious arousal he hesitated to indulge in while he was still in the house.

He went to see if Kageyama left his bloody shirt, once he was gone.

 

-

 

He dropped by again. Unlike before, without an excuse. And surprisingly often.

Well. More often than any other personal contact Oikawa had, which was not saying much. There was not a lot of exchange of personal information. He merely learnt that they were two years apart in age and his name, which was oddly fitting to his personality. Oikawa did wonder if it was a lie since it would be wise for him to hide it but something about it struck him true.

They quickly settled into an obscure routine. He never offered him to stay longer or visit him sooner or set a date and Kageyama, expectedly, never asked anything. Oikawa felt nervous, too afraid to ruin it by acting out, he couldn’t read Kageyama like he did other people and thought, maybe that was the charm of it all. He remained an unknown, more or less, all Oikawa knew for absolute certainty was that Kageyama trusted him to an extent and that was a big enough thing for people in their circle already. He considered that maybe he was just too afraid to lose that excuse he had for not taking the first step but acknowledgment of that possibility changed nothing – Kageyama would disappear for days and drop by unannounced, he would sit beside him silently but would be gone without so much as a goodbye. He tried to be content with the companionship they had but there was this overwhelming fondness whenever he was near him, a suffocating feeling getting stronger no matter how he tried to repress. He knew he was prone to feeling too much but this time there was a hint of desperation lurking underneath that scared him out of his wits, something that hurt when he disappeared at night from his side with a mere nod and not much else, leaving him staring at the door, long after he was gone, wondering if he had done something wrong, if he had figured him out this time and had felt disgusted with how he looked at him. Oikawa wanted to see him only as a companion who occasionally dropped by, someone he could trust but cold, impersonal and rigid, who could never reciprocate such feelings and settling for anything else would be simply ruining what they had. He was perhaps one of the three people he could call a friend.

But sometimes, their hands would brush and Oikawa would shiver and could not look at him for hours.

What they did most of the time was mostly menial; comprised of daily routines like cooking, if Oikawa was ready to deal with the mess Kageyama often created, then eating in half-silence, watching movies they didn’t think too deeply about, playing chess which both were terrible at, listening to music only Oikawa knew the lyrics to. Lying down in silence, if Kageyama felt like staying the night, as they had developed a strange and rather torturous habit of, ever since that night when the window was broken in the living room and Oikawa told him his bed was big enough for both and that he didn’t mind. He wasn’t much for talking, nor for physical closeness but Oikawa concluded he had to be at least somewhat fond of him too, he was not the type to hang around anyone if he didn’t, even though he had helped him back then, someone like Kageyama would not prolong their interactions only out of gratitude, he was too practical, too impersonal for that sort of sentimentality. He himself sought company of others at times for its own sake but his younger friend was not such a person. Oikawa felt like he could live in woods forever without hearing a human voice if he were so inclined and he was not the the type to ask for favours and offered none.

Oikawa envied that.

 

-

 

He started to hear a name, someone lurking around, getting things done, mostly through whispers and behind closed doors, among them, even some incidents no one dared to believe. Quick, silent, impossible to tie to a name unless you were someone who knew the circle enough that the only one who left no trace like that could only be one person.

It made Oikawa wonder, an expressionless face appearing in his mind every time he heard about this new guy. Before he brushed it off as mere paranoia, he heard that little voice again, reminding him to trust his instincts.

 

-

 

He figured soon enough that it was him from the fragments of descriptions people offered regarding his appearance which was too striking and that was maybe his only weakness. Generic looking people were simply luckier doing what he did. Forgetting Kageyama’s face once you saw him was impossible.

Oikawa hid his feelings whenever he heard of his new epiphet being thrown around, his face not once losing composure, grateful no one could hear his quickening heartbeat. He seemed to work for whomever and whatever suited him the best which was eventually going to make their paths cross, but no one had any information about him with the exception of the first letter of his last name, his face which most weren’t privy to, a silly alias that stuck, which the person in question possibly did not even know about.

Oikawa realized that what himself knew about this “shadow king” was only minutely more. But he had something important – his name.

And how he liked his hot chocolate.

 

-

 

“People think you’re nice,” Kageyama said over breakfast out of the blue, frowning at his toast. It was the morning of one of the rare nights he stayed over and did not leave before the sun was up. Oikawa realized that this was their work talk and almost smiled. He waited for him to continue and questioned him when he kept his silence in favour of munching on his toast. He was getting used to extracting the conversation bit by bit from him.

“So?”

“It’s,” Kageyama infuriatingly took another bite before finishing the thought, “Strange.”

“How so?”

“You aren’t really nice to them.”

“Some of us know how to pretend,” Oikawa said with a faint smile, noting how his charms were completely lost on his friend, somewhat pleased that Kageyama had observed him attentively.

“But it’s obvious,” he insisted with a deeper frown, “that you’re fake as hell.”

Oikawa genuinely laughed at the rude expression which he knew was not meant as an insult in the least but there was some melancholy that came with the realization Kageyama actually managed to know him that well, within this brief time period, and Oikawa thought, before he could stop himself, that this was it, this was something he genuinely feared to lose, a dreaded thing he had succeeded warding off for years.

“It’s my job.”

“You do it with others too.” Kageyama seemed half confused, half irritated. Oikawa murmured _force of habit_ and _it’s easier_ , making him frown even more, in puzzlement as to how it could possibly be easier to pretend to be nice to people one could not care less about. Oikawa laughed at the reaction once again, trying not to articulate how cute that frown appeared to him, in honest cheer as his younger companion looked at him with a hint of perplexity. Kageyama’s mind was fixed on how much more pleasing the real Oikawa was, with his spoiled tug of war over the remote, embarrassing love for old, cheesy love songs, how he would stay in the shower for too long and burn the food, how he would yelp over a mouse even though he had not batted an eye when he saw him in blood.

For a moment, he felt immeasurably glad that he was the only one who saw _this_ Oikawa who would look under his long lashes with his cheeks dusted pink, a small smile playing on his lips as he sang along a melody that spoke of some fabled undying love Kageyama didn’t really understand.

 

-

 

The change of demeanor seemed striking, even through the cold haze by which he was enveloped, to a point of ruination of the poise he had with others his friend had casually called fake. Now his encounters with others made him feel hollow, unsatisfied as he became more and more detached, even recognized a few mannerisms he copied from his friend; finding it much more easier to dismiss people. He wondered if his friend had copied any of _his_ behaviour, if he showed more tact or maybe a smidgen of emotion to anyone. _Highly unlikely,_ he decided in amusement, with his lack of empathy, he was highly unimpressionable. He behaved as if his mindset was isolated from outside effects and Oikawa wasn’t sure if he was disturbed or impressed by that. But he knew that the belief he showed emotion to no one pleased him more than he’d like to admit.

There was this semblance of balance routine brought and he knew that was what he needed to have.

On the way back home, at dawn, he would consider taking the first step. He would imagine it point by point, clear as it could get. As clueless as Kageyama seemed to be regarding human interaction, Oikawa could make sure he got the hint. Oh, he would. An intent touch on a shoulder and his voice an octave lower, other hand on his chest as he lowered his eyes only to look under his lashes. Tilting his head and baring his neck to him. Then, slowly, kneeling.

He would sigh and light another cigarette, lamenting over that first step that never came and he never took, finding it much easier to continue as they had before. But when he entered his house again, restless and mildly disgusted, it was hard not to indulge himself, thinking of him looking at his state in disdain. He reeked of sex and his hair was always a hazard afterwards, with faint marks on his neck and he should not have been this tempted right after getting fucked but he always was, whenever he thought of being caught like this. There was something so alluring about his own undignified exhibition, about watching the neutral reverence and cold disregard that tended to rule Kageyama’s face to change into something else; something he had witnessed that night they first met, something that made him take the chance. He wanted himself ruined and weak, at the feet of someone who would never succumb to his feelings like he did.

 

-

 

He was between sleep and wakefulness when he felt it – a soft brush of lips he didn’t dare believe.

Kageyama was gone when he finally could open his eyes, heart still beating violently.

 

-

 

Maybe it was best he didn't come back, Oikawa thought, after not seeing him in a whole month, as his heart constricted treacherously. Kageyama usually dropped by every other week and now Oikawa tried to repress the churning of his stomach at the counting of the days. He didn't think he would be in danger – he was too good to fail now, _this,_ Oikawa had to believe in to stay sane – since opposition appeared to be scared away if the whispers were to be trusted. Oikawa mused on the effect his name created now with excitement rising.

Apart from the thrill he felt over being near someone dangerous, Oikawa found him contradictorily cute. Especially when he was sitting there on the couch with that grumpy expression, swearing at the hot chocolate for being too hot. At those times it was too easy to imagine ruffling his hair and poking his cheek and laughing at a good natured joke, but he would refrain; unsure if that would be stepping over their boundaries.

He glanced at the side of the couch Kageyama often sat, sighing. His reign over his thoughts was getting slack in his absence. His instincts may be swearing that his friend was everything he ever wanted, but he could not trust himself to tell where his instincts ended and his desperation began.

 

-

 

He came back, a month later, with averted eyes. Then Oikawa thought, maybe, he did not dream the ghost-kiss.

 

-

 

He was sleeping on the bed with him again, fully clothed and unreachably far. The habit of them sharing the same bed without an ounce of physical contact had become too frustrating as time went by. Kageyama, as expected, was not a clingy sleeper nor a wild one unlike Oikawa; however, the older one also slept like a mummy next to him, afraid he would wrap himself around him unconsciously only to be pushed away first thing in the morning. Frustratingly so, Kageyama continued to be a perfect bed partner – he slept as silently as he behaved when awake, in perfect concordance. It was infuriating.

 _And unfairly cute,_ Oikawa thought absent-mindedly as he downed a glass of icy water and went back to bed, thinking how not even once had they woken up entangled.

When he entered the room, Kageyama was still sleeping on back but his shirt was ridden up, revealing his navel. Sharp hipbones and pale skin striking between the dark material of his clothes, the trail of hair disappearing under his pants hanging low. Oikawa stood at the door for a moment, transfixed, too aware of the fact he was asleep in his bed. Too absorbed with the urge to return the ghost-kiss he was given months ago, ten-fold. He wondered what would happen then.

He left the room to sleep on the couch, resorting to read an extremely boring book.

 

-

 

He stared at him when he was busy changing the records or making them coffee or other trivialities Kageyama paid no heed to.

He had no clue how to handle the mess of feelings that overcame him, urge turbulent and violent, desire to grab him by the hair and push him onto the counter he would be standing in front of, blissfully unaware of the thoughts plaguing his visitor, helpfully cooking for both of them like someone's cute wife, humming a happy tune that the record had been playing not too long ago, and it was unbearable to have that feeling surface again, that instinct that brought him there. Kageyama's eyes would travel along his body and refuse to leave until he forcibly distracted himself. He could not reconcile his needs with the trust and closeness he felt for his companion, he did not understand why he was truly there for, sitting in the table as if playing a part, reading from a fake domestic excerpt that suited neither of the actors. He had never had to deal with contradictory feelings that could find no middle ground before, and they often disturbed him to a point he would leave without a word and not come back for weeks, incapable of considering what his companion would think of it.

He had never felt taken aback like this. He had never felt guilty before.

Oikawa could be just so confusing sometimes.

 

-

 

“You and him,” Semi said when he was out for a break after a particularly stressful meeting. “The one they're calling the shadow king now.”

Oikawa lifted one eyebrow. He rarely confessed to knowing him on a personal level to others, but Eita was different. “What's the catch?”

“There isn't any,” he puffed the smoke then let his hair shadow his face, perfectly coordinated to hide anything that may give him away. But he could feel Semi rolling his eyes. “Don’t try that with me. I know that he,” he paused and let a sneaky tone seep into his voice, “stays over.”

Oikawa glared at him, unimpressed. “And?”

“You're fucking him.” He claimed it so matter-of-factly, Oikawa wanted to choke the smugness out of his voice.

“No,” he dismissed it quickly, “We are friends.. of some sorts.”

“Oh come on,” Semi started to laugh. “You and him? A guy who looks like that?” He ignored the icy look Oikawa gave him. “And I happen to know he's your type in other ways too,” Semi said.

“And how would you know about that?”

“Well, I know a guy who knows a guy, let's just say,” he answered with a smirk. “He says that he's particularly,” Semi leaned forward a bit, “forceful.”

Oikawa's fake casualness froze on his face.

 

-

 

It was someone in the group he was handling a few things for and expectedly, the other man had been the one to initiate it. Kageyama looked at him, taking in all details. It wasn't that he had such a specific type or thought the other man unattractive in the least – it was that he wasn't particularly fond of the idea of sleeping around with someone he was going to end up seeing again, it was best to keep things separated, he did not need people to know more than they should about him. But there was something about this guy, how he laughed in a cheeky way that ignited something, a vague familiarity running through him at the sight. He had light brown hair, slightly wavy, styled beautifully and big eyes which were almost the same hue with the soft-looking strands cradling his pale face. Kageyama was surprisingly short of breath when he nodded at the man's offer and motioned with his head for them to leave for his place.

There was something alluring about this stranger Kageyama could not decipher but when he was moaning under him, soft brown strands spilling on the pillow from his tight grasp, with the image of another man when he closed his eyes, Kageyama understood what that something was.

 

-

 

Oikawa tried not to think about it but the weak pretense he had was shattered now. He realized that he had been holding onto some vain hope that Kageyama wouldn’t be involved with anyone.

When he came back two days later, Oikawa's wide, panicked stare frantically searched for traces of a lover.

And he was noticed.

“What's wrong?”

Oikawa tried to regain composure and smiled.

He had forgotten, in his distressed state, that if there was anyone who could tell his true smile from the fake one, he was standing right before him.

 

-

 

There was more space between them that night, Kageyama noticed in spite of himself, his senses strangely attuned to Oikawa's state of being. He was at loss, wanting to ask him but unable to form the words, too afraid to see that fake smile again. His mind was instead conjuring up images of what he was used to, the urge to grab him and push him to his knees, yank him by the hair and use whatever means to force him into telling him just _what the hell was wrong, why was he ruining what they had now, what did Kageyama do,_ then the inevitable suspicion that horrified him - _did he somehow read Kageyama's mind and see what he wanted to do to him too, was it his fault, how was he supposed to live with this_ and he needed to get the truth out of him, this unclear state throwing him into a pit emotions he wasn’t used to experiencing, unbearable and suffocating, he just had to, like he did to others as his hands twitched and grabbed onto the fabric of the couch and he faltered at the thought.

He had no right, not with him.

 

-

 

He left early that night, putting Oikawa into an even worse state. He blamed himself for it – it just had been too easy to imagine Kageyama as solitary, Kageyama, who had not voluntarily touched his damn shoulder in the year they’d known each other.

He laid on his back, staring at the ceiling. That brought a whirlwind of questions, all of which regarding why, why _why_ he never initiated any contact and if it was a bad or a good thing.

After all, he had done the same.

 

-

 

 

When Kageyama returned, three long weeks later, Oikawa had pushed all those thoughts away from his mind, wishing for things to return to how they were and greeted him with a genuine smile this time, exhilarated to see his face and Kageyama, in turn, exhaled, visibly relieved.

He had feared that they lost the thing he had not experienced with anyone else before.

Trust.

 

-

 

He watched the black and white figures entangle on the screen as the presence of Oikawa felt close than before. Kageyama felt as if he could feel the warmth of him even from far, if he tried.

Staying away somehow changed how he saw things, mesh of conflicting feelings were much clearer now. He had thought that somehow he had been transparent, that Oikawa read him like an open book and was mortified now that he knew all about it; how he thought of him, what he wanted to do to him – and the idea of losing his companionship was so terrifying, seeing his fake smile aimed at him such a nauseating experience, he could not knock on his door for more than a month, even though he had strolled around his neighborhood and even circled his house on all his free nights.

Now, he was sitting so close, his need for him escalated during the time they were apart. He looked at him from the corner of his eye as the figures on the screen deepened their kiss of romantic conclusion. Kageyama wanted to know how his cheek would feel against his, now.

Visions of pushing him to the counter and undressing him hastily while whispering obscenities in his ear surfaced again, then his lover turning to face him – but with a dazed, playful smile on his face and that soft look of love beneath his lashes, asking for a kiss.

 

-

 

It seemed so long ago but it had been only three years since they first met and now Oikawa felt old, much older than he was. He quickly grabbed a bag after receiving a call from Eita who told him to leave the city immediately, then called Kageyama with no answer, then texted him to hurry to the station if he wanted to see him again, before disappearing forever.

He looked at the crowd. There was still time. He felt as if he was in a fog, heart beating fast, eyes unfocused, anxiety so high he started to feel serene instead and he resigned himself to his fate, all limbs locked in their place, waiting for verdict.

He didn't have to stay in that state for long before he saw Kageyama's shiny black hair towering over the crowd, all his muscles suddenly turning into jelly in relaxation.

“You should have called me again,” Kageyama said, slightly breathless. “You know I never check my messages.”

Oikawa stared at his face, still in disbelief, urge to cry from relief taking over. He knew that. That was why he cut the call short afer it rang twice – he was too afraid to hear Kageyama utter a mere goodbye then hang up or say alright and be done with it – he couldn't stand the possibility of hearing his indifference at the thought of never seeing him again.

“I almost didn't manage to pack, you know. Could've used an earlier notice.”

Oikawa's eyes widened, just noticing his baggage – a burst of euphoria seemed to erupt inside him, suppressing every other thought.

“I hope my neighbour takes good care of the fish.”

Oikawa started to laugh, dizzy in relief.

“The one who hates you?”

“More so now, I had to wake her up to give her the bowl.”

The younger man slumped next to him on the row. There was a faint smile on his face Oikawa was sure he hadn't seen before and he was overwhelmed with a desire to kiss him, all emotions he had repressed for the last three years finally overflowing.

“I was afraid,” Oikawa admitted, all of a sudden. “More than I've ever been.”

“Of cops? Or them? I can handle it if they send someone after you,” he said gruffly with a downright childish scowl, annoyed Oikawa would feel that way.

“No,” Oikawa shook his head, smiling. “I was afraid you wouldn't want to come.”

“Oh.” Kageyama paused. “Me too.”

There was a moment Oikawa waited for him to elaborate, as it had become a habit.

“That you would tell me not to follow you.”

“Oh.” Oikawa's heart felt like it was about to beat out of his ribcage. “I would never,” he said, throat constricting with emotion.

“Good,” Kageyama answered, “I wouldn't be able to listen.” His hand visibly hesitated before he reached out and Oikawa's widened eyes met his, slowly caressing his face. Oikawa nuzzled into his palm and saw his wide smile. Kageyama recognized the look on his face, the one he had while murmuring those love songs, when Kageyama would sneak a look with guilt, wondering how it would feel to have him love him.

He pressed his lips on the corner of his mouth. Oikawa inhaled shakily, reaching out to cradle his face and turning to deepen the kiss.

When Kageyama ended it with a soft peck, he entangled their fingers, eyes searching his expression in wonder. Oikawa had never felt simultaneously this weak and this strong in his entire life.

“So. Where are we going?”

**Author's Note:**

> Ran-san is Matsumoto Rangiku bc im a hoe for obscure af crossovers


End file.
